The Heir of the Hound of the Baskervilles
by Budding Authoress
Summary: Holmes needs a dog for his cases. But the one he's chosen has a...unique history. Now updated by popular request!
1. A new home

Authors Note: I wrote this before I finished reading The Hound of the Baskervilles, and I didn't know how it really ended. This is just another version.  
A new home  
My childhood was always very strange. My father had left soon after we were born, and I did not remember him. My mother, a purebred Golden retriever, said that it might have been well for us not to have known him, for he was a rough sort, but I wished that I could meet him. Most of my brothers and sisters were mixtures of golden fur and black fur, my father's apparent shade. But I was a pure golden retriever, making my mother say that I had her body and my father's personality. But I failed to believe that, because from what I'd heard, Father could be cruel and scary. I was sweet and good. Everybody said so.  
My mother had planned tests for us since we were born that would tell her what sort of job we would have as we grew up. She found jobs for the eldest and middle siblings, but my youngest brother and I proved to be tough to decide upon, so my mother stated that we should remain with her, which suited us fine. I will not go into the formalities of the tests, but I will mention one event that was very important to my life some time later.  
My mother was testing us to see if we could be trustworthy. She left our eldest brother alone with our food, while the rest of us were playing in the garden. When we returned, thirsty and starved, it was to discover that our brother had eaten our food. My other siblings were all yapping furiously, and I climbed upon a rock and set my voice louder than all the others, for I was starved and very angry with my brother. My sister told me later that my eyes had been glowing as I had screamed. But she dismissed it as the sun hitting my eyes and I thought no more of it.  
Anyway, my youngest brother, Charles, and I were planning to live with our mother for the rest of our days. That is, until the newspaper ad attracted our master's attention. It went like this: Dog needed to track down criminals. Must have a good sense of smell and a  
fast speed. Ten pounds to the owner. Contact S. Holmes.  
Of course my master was excited. Giving a dog to Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective! We dogs were no less excited. To serve the famous Sherlock Holmes was a great honor. My master decided that I should be the first to try. I was bathed, groomed and taken extra special care of until the next morning, when I was walked to the home of the detective.  
I was tested continuously. I was timed for speed, tracking, and catching of objects. After three hours, Holmes was satisfied, paid my master ten pounds, and requested that all my things be transferred to his home tomorrow.  
Of course I was thrilled. But I missed the chance to say goodbye to my family. My mother was prepared for this, however, for among the materials that were brought the next day was a small bag. In it was things that my siblings had contributed. Each had signed the object with a scratch of the claw. Most of the items were ordinary: a ball, a towel, a brush. But two things were different. An old red collar with the distinctive slash of my mother, and a license tag with a claw that I did not know. I realized that it must be my fathers. I just looked at the tag. The only link to my father was in my paw.  
***  
I lived a happy life at Baker Street. More than once was my tracking put into use by the detective. But there was one mystery that I could not solve, and that was where Dr. Watson was. I had heard of Holmes' companion, but I had never seen him, and I wondered where he had gotten to. My question was answered when a letter came from some place named Baskerville Hall. Watson was there protecting a man from some curse. I was not interested until one day when Holmes got it into his head to go there. He packed, grabbed my leash, and dragged me to a train, where we traveled to Baskerville Hall. I say 'dragged' because I did not want to go at all. I thought that we were going to some dismal place where I would just rot in sheer boredom. Little did I know what awaited me there. 


	2. First meeting

First meeting  
Dr. Watson was not in when we reached Baskerville Hall. However, Sir Henry was, and he greeted us joyfully.  
"Welcome, Mr. Holmes!" he said jovially, shaking Holmes' hand vigorously. "I am very glad to see you indeed! Watson and I have been getting along fine, but I have been hoping you would come! We are still as baffled as ever on this bizarre spectral figure."  
"I am sure, Sir Henry, that time will reveal the culprit." Holmes said calmly.  
"Quite right, Mr. Holmes. And what of your friend here?"  
It took a moment for me to realize that he was speaking about me. I looked up at him, and wagged my tail a little.  
"Oh, her?" Holmes said indifferently, "She is mine. I purchased her specifically to assist me in my business."  
Sir Henry began scratching my ears, a very pleasant sensation. "Does she have a name?"  
"No. I confess I am not skilled in the naming of possessions."  
I bristled a little at the 'insult,' But Sir Henry kept scratching my ears, and I found it impossible to be mad. I found myself liking the man. He had a kind eye and a hearty voice, and his hands were soft and gentle as they caressed my fur. I rolled upon my back, inviting him to rub my belly. This he did, and I found myself drifting off when Holmes brought me back to reality.  
"As much as I hate to break up this 'getting to know you' session, I really think we should go inside, as it is bitterly cold out here."  
Sir Henry rose up led the way into his mansion. I heaved a sigh and followed.  
"You know, Holmes, as you will undoubtedly be busy with this case, I would be perfectly willing to walk and feed your dog when you are unable to manage it."  
"That, Sir Henry, would be greatly appreciated." Holmes said, looking down at me. "Do you think you could handle her?"  
"Oh yes. I've worked with dogs all my life. They make wonderful pets, and this one seems to me to be the most intelligent and kindest dog ever created."  
I wagged my tail and licked his hand. This was going to be fun after all. 


	3. The blood in my veins

The blood in my veins  
I wish it to be noted that my presence was not noted by Dr. Watson. The truth is that after the aforementioned meeting, I was shut up in a little room and ignored, except for a few times a day, when Sir Henry would feed me and take me for a walk upon the moor. These were the happiest moments, as Sir Henry seemed genuinely interested in me, and treated me like an equal. He would talk to me about everything: his old life, the apparently lovely Miss Stapleton he had his eye on, and about this strange curse. I became so interested after hearing the facts that I began to wonder how I could help to shed some light upon this baffling case. But being cooped up in the room most of the time put a damper on my plans, and I resolved to do something about it. So by careful practice, I learned to open the door and wander at night. Holmes probably knew but made no motion to stop it. It was about a week after Holmes' arrival that I made a startling discovery.  
I was sitting in my room, toying idly with my sister's ball, when a small clink attracted my attention. I looked round, and discovered my father's license on the floor. I picked it up and looked at it. I was about to put it away when the name on the license caught my eye.  
BASKERVILLE My blood went cold. By this time, I had heard about the curse of the Baskervilles. I knew what my father was. And I remembered what had happened when my brother took our food. I knew then what I was.  
That night, I put my paws on the window and opened it enough to stick my head through. I howled out into the night. My howl sounded melancholy. I waited. Then I heard the noise.  
"Who makes this noise?"  
I responded: "I am coming to you."  
I sneaked out and went down to the moor. I had an idea that might save the kind Henry Baskerville.  
***  
A gigantic dog, with night black fur and glowing red eyes, was standing at the end of the moor. "Who are you?" he growled.  
"I am your daughter." I dropped his license at his feet. He stared at it. "You? But you have none of my fur."  
"I always had my mothers body and personality."  
"How did you learn the howl?"  
"Is it not genetic?"  
"No, it only is howled if you are prepared to kill someone."  
I smiled a secret smile. "Are you sure?"  
"That's how it seems. But perhaps it is genetic. I am the only one of my kind, so I would not know."  
"You existed in 1742, but you are young. How is this?"  
"I am immortal, a Hell-hound. None can kill a Hell-hound except."  
"Another Hell-hound?"  
"Yes, but there is no other Hell-hound." said he, laughing a laugh that made my fur rise on end. But I was ready. "You're wrong."  
He stopped laughing. "What?"  
"That's why you courted her, isn't it?" My eyes were tingling. "You wanted someone to help you in this evil quest to destroy the Baskervilles. But when none of us held the power, you left."  
"No, it wasn't like that. One of them did have the power, but I could tell that that one was good, and would not kill."  
"You are wrong again," I said, and my eyes felt as though they were balls of fire, and I knew that they glowed. "I can kill, and I will."  
"Then you will join me?"  
"No."  
"Then who will you." He realized what I was saying as I stepped towards him. "If you kill me, you shall lose all the powers of the Hell- Hound race. You are passing up a chance to live forever."  
"Why would I want to live forever?"  
He turned and ran. He knew that I would not give up, and I knew where he would go. He ran towards the mire, and I leaped. I knocked him into the mire, scrambling across his back and onto a safe patch. He stared at me with his red eyes blazing. "You're my child," he kept repeating, "You're my child."  
"Yes. And I am your murderer."  
He let out a howl of despair, as I let out a howl of triumph. And for one minute, our voices blended in the last awful howl of the Baskerville race that would ever be heard upon the moor. I bent down, and tore out my father's throat. "The circle is closed." I murmured.  
As he sank into the mire, a rushing wind passed, literally, right through my body. My fathers' howl rang in my ears, overwhelming me. I was weak, and I fell backwards.into the arms of Henry Baskerville, who had seen me leave. 


	4. All forgiven

All Forgiven  
I was very weak for a few days after my ordeal. When I finally regained the strength to leave my room again, it was to find Sir Henry, Holmes, and Dr. Watson waiting for me. As Sir Henry rubbed my ears, Watson looked skeptically at me.  
"I don't know, Holmes. She is part Hell-hound. She might be dangerous, both to us and to our clients."  
Holmes patted my head, an action he'd never done before. "Watson, if she was anything like her ghastly relative, she would have leapt upon Sir Henry the minute she saw him. She stays." he finished, putting an end to the matter.  
"That reminds me." Sir Henry said, standing up. "Have you thought of a name for her yet?"  
Holmes shook his head. "I have been too busy in this case. Perhaps you could help me come up with a suitable name."  
Sir Henry looked at me. "Her fur reminds me a little of the pup I had when I was a boy. Her name was Eliza, and she was the sweetest, gentlest dog I ever had."  
Holmes looked at me. "Eliza is a fine name, but this dog carries herself too well to have a simple name like that." He thought for a moment. "I have it! You can see that she holds herself up proudly, like a queen. Who was one of our most famous queens?"  
"Queen Elizabeth!" Watson said.  
"Exactly, Watson! We shall name her Elizabeth."  
Elizabeth. I liked that name. And I marveled how I could have thought once that I didn't want to come here. In the space of a week and a half, I had made a new friend, discovered my past, ended the curse of the Baskervilles, and now had a new name and a permanent home. I looked around at the three men, and wagged my tail delightedly. I had a feeling I was going to enjoy my new life.  
***  
We stayed a few more days in Baskerville Hall, then returned to Baker Street. Dr Watson published the story, editing out the part about me. He said that having a fictional brother for the young Miss Stapleton being the cause of it all made for better reading, but I doubted it. I think he was a little afraid that my past would drive away potential clients. In the meantime, I should have been happy. But for weeks on end I had nightmares of that moment when our voices met in one steady note. It was only when I started to tell this tale that I was able to sleep peacefully again.The race of Hell-hounds is no more. 


End file.
